The luck you've got
by 20BlueRoses
Summary: When news reaches the hospital that Ethan's one of the casualties from the market explosion, there's one person in particular who's desperate for his safe return.


Ahh, sorry, I've been gone for so long and it looks like I have a lot of catching up to do! Had my first bit of inspiration for ages after this Saturday's ep and came out with this (first draft, load of waffle!). It was meant to be in canon with Ethan thinking about his brother in the aftermath of the explosion but, well, I'll let you see for yourself how that worked out haha.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

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* * *

The hospital seems different. Busy, possibly busier than he's ever seen it before, but also unnaturally quiet. He wonders if that's that the impact the incident has had on his team of colleagues. Then he wonders if anything will ever seem loud again in comparison to a bomb exploding just metres from him. At that, his legs, already shaky, barely manage to keep him upright.

"Ethan?"

A body slams into his and arms wrap tightly around him. It hurts. He whimpers but doesn't tell his brother to get off him. He couldn't summon the energy to speak even if he wanted to.

"Thank God." Cal says. "When they told me…" He pulls away enough to give a pointed shake of his head. "I- I thought…"

Ethan can't look at him. He can't see the fear in Cal's eyes, can't bear the burden of any more guilt, not when he's soaked with the blood of someone else willing to sacrifice their own life to save his. Instead, he takes a fistful of his brother's scrub top and squeezes it so tight it feels as though his knuckles might shatter.

"Uh, Cal," Marty says, and Ethan senses him bobbing up and down behind his brother. "Charlie asked me to get him into cubicles and-"

"I'm treating him."

"Is that… allowed?"

Cal acts as though he hasn't even heard. He crouches slightly, sticks his face in front of Ethan's, trying to force him to look at him. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

Ethan doesn't want. He doesn't want anyone to treat him, Cal or otherwise. He wants to rip his own skin off to shred the injuries, to start afresh, a new day, a chance to do things differently, to do _everything_ differently, to prevent anyone from dying, especially for him. But Cal says his name and his voice cracks on the final syllable, and so Ethan gives him the nod he's after.

"Can you walk? You look-"

By way of reply, he propels himself forward, in the vague direction of the cubicle he doesn't want to sit in. It hurts to move, but then again, it hurts to stand still too.

"Ethan, don't, if you can't… I don't want you passing out on me."

As he limps forwards he notices heads turning in his direction, Robyn audibly gasping, and he realises he must look dreadful, but what he looks like has never mattered less. Over in a cubicle, he watches a woman collapse in sobs against David's chest. Across the room, at the door to the relatives room, he sees the young boy Iain was carrying, alive but alone. He supposes he should go to him but he doesn't seem able to put the thought into action.

He jumps as an arm wraps around his shoulders.

"Just me," Cal says. "Sorry. Thought you might need a hand."

It doesn't help steady him but it's useful to have someone to steer him into a cubicle and onto a bed, to stop him walking forever, or at least until he forgot every single thing about the day. Then Cal whisks the curtain shut and it's just the two of them and that's better but also a hundred times worse as now there's nothing to distract him from what's happened. A tear snakes down his cheek. There's nothing left inside him to try to prevent them falling.

Cal tugs at the zip on his uniform jacket. "I need to check you over but you're okay, yeah, you're going to be okay."

That makes it worse. He doesn't deserve to be okay when other people, _good_ people like Al and Jenny are not. He's not sure if he remembers it or his mind is playing tricks on him in the aftermath of Jan's explanation, but he can almost feel Al's hands pushing him down, shielding him from the worst of the blast. Everything happened so fast. Yet now, it feels like time is standing still, like he's still at the market.

"Ethan, help me out here." There's a pause. "Please, buddy."

He shudders back into the room and realises he's frozen rigid, fingers curled around the edge of the mattress, immobile as Cal tries to slide his jacket off him.

"Don't do this," Cal mutters and then Ethan feels the cold of a stethoscope beneath his t-shirt.

He knows what his brother is checking for and he tries to tell him that he's not going to go into shock but all that happens is that his lips part and he gets the taste of a salty tear. He should have known what was happening when Al said he could taste blood. A doctor would have. He doesn't know what that makes him.

He weakly wriggles out of the jacket. Cal gives a short, relieved sigh and it reminds Ethan that he's as lousy a brother as he is a doctor. He sits patiently as Cal cuts through his t-shirt and manages to feed his arm through the blood pressure cuff. The tight squeeze anchors him in the room enough for him to glace in the direction of his brother. Cal's frowning.

"I'm sorry," Ethan says. His voice is hoarse. He's never shouted so much before.

"What for?" Cal says.

"For scaring you."

He knows how that one feels now. He'd found his brother bleeding in the rain, semi-conscious and barely alive and Ethan had thought it impossible he'd ever feel more scared than when Cal arrested in Resus and they'd carved him open right in front of him. But today he had been proved wrong. He'd been wrong about a lot of things; not freeing Jenny sooner, not obeying when he was told to run. It was those things he was apologising for really.

"I think you've broken some ribs," Cal says.

Ethan gives a slight nod of acknowledgement. It's come as no surprise. He lets Cal glide the stethoscope across his bare chest but he's not seeing the hospital cubicle, he's seeing the blackness of being buried beneath rubble. He blinks. Tears escape both eyes and Cal comes into focus, his face only a few centimetres away, brows knotted in concern. He moves a hand as if to cup Ethan's cheek but then it falls limply back by his side. There's nowhere he can touch that isn't covered in blood.

"I'll get you some pain relief, okay? That'll make things better."

Ethan doesn't see what difference painkillers will make but Cal's already the other side of the curtain before he can put his jumbled thoughts into words. He can hear hushed voices, his brother's among them. He could probably work out what they're saying if it wasn't for the ringing in his ears.

Cal returns with two painkillers and a plastic glass of water. Ethan stares at them blankly. Cal sighs again and sits down on the bed next to him. He takes Ethan's hand, forces the cup into it, but doesn't let go himself.

"Open up," he says. He pushes the first pill between Ethan's barely parted lips and then brings the glass in their joined hands up to his mouth. "Now drink. Come on, Ethan, I don't know what else to do."

Ethan manages to take a gulp of water. His throat doesn't feel wide enough and it stings on the way down. He swallows the second tablet easier, but only just.

"Well done," Cal says. "That- that's good. The pain will go soon now, promise."

Cal's speaking to him like he's a small child which makes no sense when Ethan suddenly feels old, like he's seen too much of the world. He's not so naïve to be fooled by his brother's promise. The pain is going nowhere, pills or otherwise. He shakes his head.

"No?" Cal asks. "Is there something you're not telling me? Something I've missed?" He waits for an answer. Ethan doesn't speak. "Please. Bro. Talk to me." Cal groans. "_Ethan_."

She'd screamed his name. Screamed it. And he'd left her to die.

Without warning, Cal pulls back his eyelid and shines a torch into his eye. Ethan flinches. The light is blinding. It reminds him of the split second before he'd lost consciousness.

"Well, your pupils are fine. Your vitals are good really, considering."

Ethan processes that. He'd thought he was dying. He'd thought his injuries were severe. But his brother tells him he's doing _good really, _and he doesn't know how the two scenarios can coexist.

"Ethan," Cal says but he sounds reluctant this time. "Listen, Jade spoke to me. That gentleman that was brought in earlier, he's saying that his daughter was following…"

"No," Ethan manages, only finding the ability to speak as he knows he owes it to her. To Jenny. His chin trembles. "She's dead." He pictures her face, desperate, terrified, and a fresh bout of tears tumble down his cheeks.

Cal's silent. Ethan continues to stare straight ahead but he can sense that his brother is watching him. Any other time he'd make an effort to stem the tears but he's past the point of being able to pretend to be okay. Their arms brush and Ethan wonders which of them moved closer.

"Once I've got you cleaned up, I'll go and talk to him," Cal says.

"I-I'll do it."

"That's not a good idea."

Ethan doesn't argue but he doesn't change his mind either. It's only right that the news comes from him. He was there. He failed her. Failed them both. But his brain is starting to work again now and he knows he can't do it while he still has evidence of the explosion splattered across his face.

Cal stands. "I'm going to wipe some of this blood off you so we know what we're dealing with, okay?"

Ethan nods. It's the first time his agreement has been genuine. He didn't care what happened to him before; now he has a purpose.

They don't speak as Cal works, but Ethan can hear his brother breathing heavily as he scrubs at his face. He's pressing firmly and Ethan supposes that means there's a substantial amount of blood on him. He squeezes his eyes shut. Someone screams. He doesn't know if it's real or in his head.

"Just cuts," Cal says. "I don't think any need stitching. You've been lucky."

At that, he opens his eyes and finds himself looking directly into Cal's. With his attempt at avoiding eye contact defeated, he finally allows his brother an insight into how he's feeling, a broken wince, refuting the comment about being lucky. Cal's lips are pressed together tightly, showing Ethan he's not taking back the statement.

But now that he's seeing Cal properly, he can tell that he's hurting too. His brother's giving him a pleading look and Ethan wishes he could appease him by snapping out of it, by being as okay as his check-up indicates he should be. He exhales. His lips remain parted as he tries to think of a way to tell Cal the horrors he's experienced.

Then somewhere behind him a mobile phone rings. He jumps violently. It jolts his ribs. He can still hear the bang, feel the hot air on his skin, and he braces himself, waiting to be blown off his feet and into oblivion. He knows it, this time it's the end. But then the ringing stops and he's back in the E.D. His heart is hammering. He takes a few gulps of air and tries to regain composure. He shoves his hands beneath his thighs before Cal notices how much he's shaking.

"What just happened?" Cal sounds spooked.

"Nothing."

"No, you just freaked out. What was it?"

He realises then that Cal hadn't even registered the phone ringing. It's such a common occurrence and it meant nothing significant to his brother.

"The- the…" He's breathless but that's not why he stops. He can't bring himself to say the word, to acknowledge that there had been a bomb. "At the market. It was a phone that- that did it. And I- I heard it ring and then…" he shakes his head. "There was a phone. Just then. It… it…"

"It took you back there," Cal finishes.

Ethan slumps forwards. Cal takes a step nearer and they end up in an awkward embrace, Ethan's head in his brother's stomach, Cal's hands rubbing circles on his bare back. He's too tired to do anything other than weakly cry into his brother's tunic.

"I'm glad you told me," Cal says, eventually. "I was getting worried when you wouldn't speak."

Ethan lifts his head and Cal crouches down so he can take it in his hands.

"You've got to let me in, bro."

"I- I don't know _how_-"

"We promised, remember? Before."

Ethan manages to nod. He does remember but that was a whole different set of circumstances when Cal was in hospital struggling with a long recovery and Ethan was on a misguided mission to get revenge.

"Good." Cal's hands move from his cheeks to his shoulders and then he releases him altogether. "You need to put some clothes on. I'll find something in your locker? Then we can go home and we can talk, yeah?"

"Cal, wait-" Ethan reaches for his brother's wrist. "I need to speak to him. To Andy. To tell him what happened."

"No, Ethan…"

"I have to."

Cal sighs. "Then I'm coming with you."

* * *

The water stings as it cascades down his shoulders. It's hot, but not enough to scald him. He considers turning it up, giving himself something else to think about other than the screaming in his ears and Andy's harsh words as he'd broken the news. He knows he deserved every single one of them but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. He was meant to get Jenny out and he didn't. He was meant to save lives but instead he'd destroyed them. A sob rips through him and he doubles over in pain.

The water around his feet is red. Some of it's his blood; much of it is Al's. He remembers Al's voice in the darkness, clearly hurting but still looking out for him, keeping him talking, encouraging him to shout for help. Al was a hero. He'd sacrificed his own life to save Ethan's. Just like Jeff. Quite like Cal. He wasn't worth any of those deaths.

His legs finally give way on him and he sinks to the floor of his shower, buries his head in his knees and sobs. The explosion had been awful. A hot blast, sharp pain, then waking into a nightmare, not knowing what was happening or whether they would be rescued. And now, every time he relives it, it feels even worse. He doesn't know which are memories and which his mind is fabricating; Jenny locked in a scream as the blast hit her, a wobble in Al's voice as he admitted he was hurt, crying hopelessly beneath a heap of rubble with ash in his mouth and blood in his eyes.

"Ethan."

He has to remind himself that it's not Jenny this time. It's Cal.

"You okay in there?"

He doesn't reply but he sits upright and tries to take some calming breath. The shower sprays across his face.

"Ethan, if you don't tell me you're okay I'm going to break the door down and see for myself."

Ethan closes his eyes. He's exhausted now, barely has the energy to speak, but has enough logic left to know he doesn't want any more destruction for the day.

"I'm okay," he says. It doesn't sound convincing.

"Are you coming out?"

"Give me a minute."

He doesn't really want to move, doesn't want to carry on with his day when so many others cannot. But he struggles to his feet, one hand flat against the wall, the other supporting his broken ribs. The mirror is steamed up now and he's glad; the first glimpse of the wounds across his face was more than enough. He wraps a towel around his waist and staggers out into the hallway. As expected, Cal is waiting for him.

"You look better," Cal says, following him to his room.

There's nothing Ethan can say to that when it's clearly a polite way of pointing out he's no longer covered in blood.

"You know, when I said to tell me you were okay, I didn't mean you had to tell me that you were _okay_," Cal says.

He's not sure if it's the exhaustion or if his brother has started talking in riddles.

"So how are you really?"

Ethan shrugs.

"Here." Cal passes him the pyjamas from his pillow, inadvertently unfolding them in the process. "Get some rest."

Ethan takes the pyjamas from him but doesn't move to put them on.

"What, you don't want to sleep?"

"Not really." He doesn't bother to cloak his expression, hoping Cal understands that lying in bed shares too many similarities with being trapped on his back in darkness.

"I'll put a film on then," Cal suggests. "Come and sit with me for a bit?" His voice sounds higher than normal and his expression is tense. "Yeah, Ethan?"

Ethan manages a nod. It seems cruel to be so frivolous as to watch a film but anything is better than being alone. "I'll just…" he says, indicating the pyjamas. "Could do without an audience though, Caleb."

Cal rubs at his forehead. "Right, yeah. Sorry. Just still trying to get my head around my baby brother being in a bomb blast."

Pain slams into his chest. As he looks up, his eyes fill. He wants to tell Cal that it was a thousand times worse actually _being_ in the blast and that's he's still trying to get his head around it himself, but the words don't come. He remembers lying there afterwards, in pain and scared, and realising what had happened. Realising there had been a bomb.

"Sorry," Cal says again. He doesn't sound himself.

"It's fine," Ethan says. It's barely audible.

"It's just…" His mouth flaps. "No. No, it doesn't matter. I'll wait for you in the lounge."

The sofa isn't as comfortable as it should be considering there's only one position he can sit in without it hurting his ribs. Cal props him up with cushions and Ethan lets him but only because it's so much effort to form sentences with his mind still at the market. For the same reason, the film goes unwatched. The on-screen strangers mean nothing to him. Whatever their fate, he couldn't care. He suspects Cal isn't paying attention either for he can see out of his peripheral that his brother's eyes are constantly on him. After a while, it begins to get too much. Ethan turns his head and rests his cheek on the back of the sofa. His cuts sting. But then gradually he begins to relax. His limbs grow heavy and he feels himself slipping into sleep.

When he wakes, everything is dark. For a moment he thinks it must be night-time but when he stretches to look for Cal, he realises he can't move. There's a dull pain in his side. Something is creaking but he can't see what. Dust rains down on him. He can smell something odd, burning or blood. And then, in the abyss, comes a voice, a voice he knows as well as his own. _It hurts_, his brother says, _help me, it hurts. _And Ethan tries to move, to come to his brother's rescue just as he had after he was stabbed, but his arms are trapped beneath him and he cannot so much as lift his head. _I think I'm dying_, Cal says, and Ethan can feel tears pooling down his cheeks. _ It's your fault, Ethan. I'm dying and it's all your fault. _Then there's silence and then Ethan starts to scream.

His eyes fly open and his senses return one by one, the bright lights of their lounge, the inane prattle of the TV, Cal in front of him, telling him it's okay and then dragging him into his arms. He tries to breathe but it feels as though he's choking and he can't stop the small cries that escape his mouth.

"Just a dream, just a dream," Cal says, which is stupid as they both know it's not just a dream, "I've got you, you're safe, just deep breaths for me, Ethan, please."

Ethan blinks furiously, trying to escape the remainder of the nightmare. He's slumped against his brother, Cal's arms around him, and shaking violently. It feels just like it had when they'd first pulled him out the wreckage. It feels like the world is caving in again. He fights to get away from his brother's embrace, he needs to be free, he needs to be able to move. He grabs at the air, trying to get upright, crying out when he can't.

Cal wrestles with him, not trying to keep hold but trying to stop him flailing, to manoeuvre him back to his own space on the sofa.

"I don't know what to do, Ethan," he says, when they're finally separate. He sounds upset. "Tell me how I can help."

Ethan's continues to gasp. It feels like his lungs are never going to recover.

"Please. I know it's hard. Please talk to me." He seems to be gasping too but Ethan's not sure why. "I nearly lost you today. I know that and I- I just want to help. To show you how glad I am that you- that you didn't- that you're-"

"But people _did_ die." A tear drips off the end of his nose. "People died because of me!" He takes a deep breath but he's shaking even worse now. "What's wrong with me Cal? Why do people keep dying because of _me_!"

Cal shakes his head. "That's not-"

"I was driving the minibus Jeff died in. I hesitated when the bomb was about to blow and Al died shielding me. I messed up at work and you took a knife because of it." The words are flooding as fast as his tears now. "It's all my fault. All because of me."

"No, not because of you. Some nutter ran you off the road, you know that, and Jeff died doing his job. Al too. I've met him, beneath all the banter, he always put his job first. And I-" Cal takes a deep breath. "I got in a fight because I'm an idiot and didn't think things through. None of it's your fault."

"Then why-?" Ethan wipes at his cheeks but it's futile. "Why does it feel that way?"

"Because you're still in shock. You've had an unimaginably awful day but you _will_ get through this, you will be okay."

Ethan wishes he could believe his brother but he's still flitting back to the market, the screams, the blast, being trapped. "I thought I was going to die in there."

Cal's silent but he flinches and Ethan can almost hear what he's thinking_ I thought you were going to too._

"Is that how you felt? When- when you were hurt… waiting for someone to find you."

"What, scared? Yeah. Of course. I can still remember how that felt."

"And what helped?"

Cal looks lost for a moment, just like he had in those early days in hospital, but then his face hardens and he manages a ghost of a smile. "You."

"Oh."

"I mean, I don't reckon I'm as good at that stuff as you, but at least let me try." Cal pauses. "Look, what you've been through today… no-one could experience that without it having an impact on them. And- and I know you're still living it. But I'm here for you, okay? Just like you were for me."

Ethan nods. The room seems to slide into focus, as if he's fully left the bomb site for the first time.


End file.
